


Rules of Acquisition

by Dagny_Taggart



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9914333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dagny_Taggart/pseuds/Dagny_Taggart
Summary: Since there aren't enough Quark fics out there. A series of one-shots and short stories. Canon-based, Quark-centric. Ratings may vary; T for safety. NONSLASH.





	1. Rule #144

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the events of “Crossover,” Kira begins to see Quark in a different light… and appreciates what he did for her people.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Rule of Acquisition #144 - There's nothing wrong with charity ... as long as it winds up in your pocket.  
> Series: Rules of Acquisition  
> Characters: Kira, Quark  
> Word Count: 1,486  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings: slightly dark  
> Summary: After the events of “Crossover,” Kira begins to see Quark in a different light… and appreciates what he did for her people.
> 
> A/N: In my opinion, there aren’t enough Quark-centric DS9 fics out there, especially ones that are well-written, true to canon, and do not contain explicit relationships (slash or otherwise). As a result, this is the beginning of what I hope will be a sizable project – one ficlet for each of the Rules of Acquisition (at least, the ones recorded in Memory Alpha). We’ll see how far my muse will take me.
> 
> As usual, constructive criticism is always appreciated. Also, if you would like to give me plot bunnies for any of the Rules, I am willing to consider adoption! As always, I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters; I just play in their universe.

_She moved closer to the prisoner crumpled on the floor at her feet, and gave him a smile that was both compassionate and mocking._

_“I’ve always liked you…” she said softly._

_“And I have nothing but respect for you.” His eyes were wide with fear._

_“You feel sorry for the Terrans, as I do.  But without them, who would perform the labor for the Alliance?”  It was a lie, she knew.  In the end, she would never trade her power for their freedom.  Why should she?_

_“A quick death,” she finally said.  “Don’t make him suffer anymore.”_

_The Ferengi’s frightened, desperate cries for mercy rang horribly in the room, fading slowly as he was dragged down the hall and out of earshot._

* * *

 

     Kira awoke with a startled gasp, the sound of screaming still echoing in her mind, and was momentarily surprised to find that she was back in her own bedroom, on her own space station.  In her own universe. 

     She sighed and rubbed her eyes.  She’d seen a lot in her life, between her childhood on Bajor and her time in the Resistance, and even on Deep Space Nine.  She’d grown up with torture and slavery.  She’d seen friends and enemies die in front of her.  She’d even killed people herself.  But this, this was different.  She couldn’t get the image out of her head: she stood over a beaten and terrified Quark and callously ordered his execution. 

     _No, that’s ridiculous.  It wasn’t me,_ she told herself over and over.  _And it wasn’t Quark, either._   But that didn’t really make a difference.  The fact was that she had stood by, too shocked and perhaps too afraid to say anything, while an innocent man was sentenced to death by someone whose genetic make-up was identical to her own.  What had the other O’Brien said?  If history had been just a little bit different… it was disturbing to think that she might have turned out like the Intendant. 

     Kira sat for a moment, wide awake now, catching her breath before looking at the bedside chronometer.  It read 0300.  Damn.  She hated being tired in Ops, and she had a long day ahead of her.  But there was no way she would be able to sleep tonight.  Even if she could, she dreaded the images that would doubtlessly haunt her dreams.  No, she needed something to do; someplace to go.  Pulling on her uniform, she stepped into the dimly-lit corridor and wandered out to the deserted promenade. 

     _It’s too bad Odo’s not up here,_ she thought to herself.  Kira decided that standing on the enormous promenade wasn’t doing much to assuage her anxiety.  It was creepy to see a place normally so full of life looking so…dead. 

     She was never quite sure how she ended up at the door to Quark’s.  She could hear someone inside counting latinum.  Almost certainly Quark himself.  She stood for a good five minutes, debating whether or not to enter.  Was she really _that_ desperate for someone to talk to, that she would actually seek out the little toad’s company? 

     Throwing her better judgment to the wind, she punched in the unlock sequence and the door swished open.

     A creak of the floor heralded her arrival as she stepped into the shadowy lounge, and she saw the Ferengi behind the bar jump.

     “Who’s there?  We’re closed,” Quark’s voice called out nervously.

     “Relax, Quark, it’s only me,” she replied.

     “Major?” He was definitely taken off guard, but no longer seemed worried.  Obviously, he wasn’t expecting to meet any of his despicable “business partners” tonight.  He reverted to his typical, annoyingly suave demeanor. “What brings you to my humble establishment at this hour?”

     “Couldn’t sleep,” she said, plopping herself down on a barstool across from him.  She glanced around and was not surprised to find that whatever latinum he had been counting was now completely out of sight. 

     He looked rather tired himself, but, ever the gracious host (or the shameless profiteer - Kira could not decide which), he turned to her and asked, “A hot jumja tea?”

     She nearly fell off her seat. 

     “Absolutely not!”

     Quark looked up in surprise.

     “I mean, I’d prefer something else.  Something a little stronger.”

     He grabbed a Bajoran ale off his shelf, studying her with narrowed eyes as he poured her a glass.  Eventually, he said, “It’s that mirror universe, isn’t it?”

     She would have protested, but she didn’t have the energy.  “How do you know about that?”

     “Doctor Bashir was in here earlier.  Wanted something strong, too.”

     “I see.”

     “Spent nearly an hour taking up space.  He wanted to talk.”  Quark handed her the glass.  “He was pretty upset; apparently, he killed Odo in that other universe.  Can’t say I think that’s something to feel particularly guilty about.”

     Kira jerked her head up at the Ferengi, fully intending to leap across the bar and throttle him, but when she saw his face, she knew he didn’t really mean it.  She sat back, remaining perfectly still and silent.

     Quark was undeterred.  “So, did you meet the other me?”

     She should have known he’d ask that, but it still took Kira a moment to answer.  “Yes,” she finally responded quietly. 

     “Well?  What am I like?  Am I making a profit?”

     She smiled ruefully.  “Not really.  Taxes are high.  He seemed to think you got the better deal.” 

     “Is that your way of telling me to stop complaining about my earnings?”  Quark gave her that amused, leering grin that made her want to slap him.

     “No.  I was just telling you the truth,” she replied fiercely.

     “Something is really bothering you, isn’t it?” Quark leaned closer to her, his voice softening.

     “Yes – no!  Look, I…can’t talk about it.”  Then how come all she really wanted to do was pour out the whole story to him?  Maybe that’s why he was such a good bartender, and such a good crook.  He could make people talk.  He was still eyeing her carefully, as if expecting her to continue.  She gave in. 

     “Okay.  There is one thing I want to say to you,” she finally began, taking a deep breath. “In the other universe, I met someone.  He was helping the enslaved Terrans escape.  From the ore mines.  Quark, it was so similar to the way it used to be…only it was the Bajorans running the mines.”

     She paused, struggling to keep any trace of emotion from her voice as she haltingly continued. 

     “This man, I went to him for help.  I had to find a transporter.  We thought it could get us back here.  He wanted something in return.  He asked me if I could find a way to send other people back here.  Terrans.”  She had only just realized this.  She had not had time to think it through, but the other Quark had wanted to send escaped Terrans back to DS9. 

     “The Alliance found out.  They…brought him in for questioning.  Had him tortured, then executed.”  Kira continued to look down at her fingernails.  “And it reminded me that I never…thanked you for what you did for my people.  For me.  You took a big risk.  You sold us food when other people weren’t willing to.  Your alibis saved my life, and the lives of many of my comrades.  I know that charity doesn’t come naturally to you, but we really did appreciate it.”

     There.  She’d said it.  When she finally looked up at him, he had stopped uncomfortably folding and unfolding a dishcloth and was staring at her in astonishment. 

     “I’ve been waiting two years for you to say that,” he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face.  “You’re welcome.”

     He took her half-empty glass from her, refilled it, and then poured a tall one for himself.

     “To freedom,” he said, tipping it towards her and then consuming it in one gulp. 

     “To freedom,” she agreed quietly.  They sat in silence for a long time. 

     Eventually, Quark decided he’d done his duty as the sympathetic bartender and was ready to call it a night. 

     “If you’ll excuse me, Major,” he said cordially, “I, for one, would like to get some sleep.  Morn will be out here at 0900 sharp, expecting me to open the bar.  Can’t let my loyal customers down.”

     Kira stood up to leave.  “Thanks for the drink, Quark.”

     “I’ll put it on your tab,” he replied, more out of habit than anything else.  “Oh, and Major?”

     She paused at the doorway. 

     “I want you to know that what I did for you back then was only for profit.  I could see how determined all of you Resistance people were, and I knew Bajor would rid itself of those Cardassians someday.  I was simply trying to gain an advantage with the new regime.”

     Kira looked at him with an exasperated expression.  “Good-night, Quark.”

     And with that, she turned on her heel and left him standing there, grinning.

 


	2. Rule #57

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the FCA ban, Dax convinces the station crew to help get Quark back on his feet, and Quark realizes that his best customers are indeed his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Rule of Acquisition #57 - Good customers are as rare as latinum – treasure them.  
> Series: Rules of Acquisition  
> Characters: Quark, Dax, Ensemble  
> Word Count: 4,451  
> Rating: K+  
> Warnings: mentions of homicide/suicide, infrequent and mild swearing  
> Summary: After the FCA ban, Dax convinces the station crew to help get Quark back on his feet, and Quark realizes that his best customers are indeed his friends. 
> 
> A/N: I’ve had this idea in my head ever since I first watched Body Parts. I needed an explanation for why Dax wasn’t there to help Quark out during the whole incident; yes, he likes to keep his Ferengi issues private, but Jadzia understands his culture and seems like the one person he’d be able to talk to. Also, someone needed to organize the relief effort, and at this point in the series, while the other characters seemed to have a soft spot for Quark, few of them would have wanted to admit it with such an obvious display of friendship. Dax seemed like the only one who would have been willing convince, cajole, and even pry in order to get it done.  
>  As far as the story goes, I’m sorry it’s so long. Some fluff, some seriousness; lots of dialogue. Hope you enjoy.   
>  As always, I don't own Star Trek or any of its characters; I just play in their universe.

      “He did _what_?”  Dax gasped, nearly spraying raktajino across the small table.

     “You heard me,” Bashir replied, an amused smirk on his face as he watched the lovely science officer wipe her mouth.  “Garak swore it was the truth.  Really, even he wouldn’t make up something like that.”

     The two were sitting in a corner of the Replimat, sipping Klingon coffee and going over the latest station gossip.  Jadzia had just returned from a one-week scientific expedition, and Julian knew she’d want to catch up on the news before delving into the mountains of data and analyses that were waiting on her desk in Ops. 

     “Quark hired Garak to assassinate him.”  Dax shook her head.  “That’s absurd.”

     “Mm-hmm.”

     “Why?”

     The doctor sighed loudly in a way that indicated it was a long, twisted story.  “Something about a Ferengi contract.  Apparently, he’d gone to a doctor on Ferenginar who told him he had some sort of rare, incurable disease.  Dorek Syndrome, I think he called it.”

    “Oh my.  But Dorek Syndrome affects only one out of every five million Ferengi.”  Dax said with a frown. 

     Bashir gave her an odd look before continuing.  “Well, at any rate, Quark thought he only had a few days to live, and apparently panicked at the thought of dying with so many debts gone unpaid.  So he thought he’d pay them off by selling his desiccated remains on the futures exchange. 

     “A couple days ago, I got a call from some Doctor Orpax on Ferenginar.  All he said to me was, ‘Please transmit this message to Mr. Quark of Deep Space Nine: You do not have Dorek Syndrome.’  Then he terminated the connection.  So I told Quark, and he seemed overjoyed.  Unfortunately (and now this is what Garak told me), there was the small matter about the desiccated remains, which had already been sold.  To Brunt.”

     Dax’s eyes widened.  “You mean that FCA liquidator who had Quark beaten up a few months ago?”

     “The same.”

     “And he came to collect.  And Quark would be mortified at the idea of breaking a Ferengi contract.”  The realization seemed to knock Dax solidly in the face.  “Poor Quark.  Garak’s not going through with it, of course.”

     “Jadzia, you know Garak.  I have no idea what he plans to do.  He’s quite capable of murder, but then I don’t think he would have told me if he was afraid of getting caught.  And anyway, Odo would be on him in a second.”

     “Is there something I should know about, Doctor?”  A voice came from behind them, and Bashir jumped.  The shape shifter in question stepped up to the table.  “You both just missed out on the action.” 

     Dax raised an eyebrow.  “What action?”

     “In Quark’s.  It was just shut down by the FCA.”  The constable sounded rather pleased.

     Jadzia winced, unsure whether to be relieved or alarmed – after all, a Ferengi without profit is no Ferengi at all.  Quark couldn’t be taking it well.

     Odo described the scene with an air of satisfaction, but Dax wasn’t listening.  Julian could tell by the blank, absent look in her eyes that her mind was someplace else entirely, most likely puzzling over another one of her schemes.  Presently, she stood, walked stiffly to the replicator, replaced her mug for recycling, and said, “Julian, could you meet me in the infirmary in ten minutes?”

     He looked quizzically at her for a moment, but she didn’t give him time to respond.  With a distracted look on her face, she turned and walked away, her head still in the proverbial clouds.

     “I wonder what’s gotten into her…” Odo mused.

     “I suppose I’ll find out soon enough,” Julian responded, draining his mug and shaking his head in bewilderment. 

* * *

 

     “Alright, Jadzia, you’re plotting again.” Julian said, standing in front of his desk with his arms folded across his chest.  “Spit it out.”

     “Quark needs our help,” she said, turning swiftly around to face him, her hands held behind her back.  “He’s lost the bar.  He has no place to go.  We have to find a way that he can stay on the station and keep his bar.”

     Julian frowned.  “We do?  Why?”

     Dax knew there was no great affection between Bashir and Quark, but she had expected the doctor to be a bit more sympathetic.  She sighed dramatically.  “Really, Julian, with all the time you spend in Quark’s, I would have thought you’d be a little more concerned by the possibility that the place would suddenly be gone.”  She snapped her fingers close to his face to emphasize her point.

     “Let someone else take it over,” he said indifferently, beginning to organize some of his medical supplies.

     “And could you tell me what Federation or Bajoran citizen in their right mind would come all the way out here to a Cardassian station to operate a narrow-profit-margin bar on the frontlines of an inter-quadrant war?”

     Bashir paused.  “I guess that’s a good point.”

     “Right.”  She looked thoughtful for a moment, then said casually, “If Quark’s closes, you and the chief are going to have to find somewhere else to set up your dartboard.”

     The shattered look on the doctor’s face gave her all the information she needed to know – she had her first accomplice.

     “What do you want me to do?”

     She grinned to herself and asked, “You got any spirits you’re not going to drink?”

* * *

 

     Lieutenant Commander Dax found Jake and Nog in their usual spot on the balcony, watching the passengers of a Bajoran freighter disembark. 

     _Just like old times_ , she thought.  It was good to see Nog again.  He was home for six days on break from the Academy.  She wondered if anyone else noticed the difference one semester had made in him – not only did he stand straighter, but his whole presence seemed somehow elevated, prouder, older.  It was a maturity that she hadn’t expected to see in the eyes of the young Ferengi. 

     “I see you boys didn’t waste any time,” she called out, approaching them.  “Seen any beautiful young women yet?”

     Jake blushed, but Nog only grinned.  Perhaps there were some things that really hadn’t changed at all. 

     “There were a couple,” the little Ferengi told her, then seemed to suddenly remember his Starfleet training.  “What can we do for you, sir?”

     “I need some help with some acquisitions…” She launched into her story; the boys listened to her attentively. 

     “We’ll spread the word,” Jake said when she’d finished.  “And I’m sure I can pinch some Saurian brandy from my dad’s cupboard.”

     “Better ask him first, Jake,” she told him.  “You know how Benjamin is about his kitchen…”

     “And I can give my uncle some of that Trixian Bubble Juice I have in my quarters.  I stole it from him anyway.”

     Dax didn’t even bother to comment.  “Thanks, you two,” she said.  “I really appreciate it.”

     “You’re welcome, Lieutenant Commander!” Nog called over his shoulder as Jake grabbed his arm.

     “You mean even after a semester at the Academy, you’ve still been stealing Trixian Bubble Juice from Quark’s storeroom?” she heard the young Sisko ask in disbelief.       

     “It’s not ‘still’ because I didn’t used to do it,” Nog replied.  “My dad used to get it for me, but then he got caught.  Hey, don’t give me that look.  Remember, the 111th Rule of Acquisition says…”

     Dax shook her head and moved on to recruit her next coconspirators. 

* * *

     A few minutes later, she was standing in the O’Brien’s kitchen.

     “Sorry, I don’t have any spare dishes, Lieutenant Commander,” Keiko told her regretfully.  She was seated on the couch, looking a little pale but smiling brightly.  Molly was curled up beside her, an old-fashioned book open across her lap.  “No utensils, either.  We break a lot of stuff… I’m sure you can understand.”

     “I understand,” Dax reassured her, then called over her shoulder into the small pantry, “Chief, have you found anything?” 

     O’Brien emerged with a case of some Terran beverage she thought looked vaguely familiar.

     “Scotch whiskey,” he grunted, swinging it up onto the counter.  His face lit up as he seemed to remember something else.  “One more thing.” 

     Dax waited patiently as he went back to digging through the jumbled cupboards.  A minute later, he got to his feet, carefully cradling a tall bottle of red wine in his arms.

     “Merlot.  A gift from Captain Picard,” the chief explained.  “Sweet gesture, but I really never cared for the stuff.  Give it to Quark with my regards.”

* * *

 

     Kira’s quarters were unlocked, and as soon as she heard her friend’s voice call out, “Come in!” the door swished open.

    “Nerys!  What’s going on?  You look like you’re… going somewhere.”  Dax was eyeing the duffle bag on the floor and the clothes laid out on the major’s futon with confusion.

     “Nothing drastic,” Kira replied, but as she turned around, Jadzia couldn’t hold back a shocked gasp.

     Kira looked down at her rounded abdomen and met Dax’s stare with a raised eyebrow.  “You’re not going to tell me that Julian didn’t explain the whole situation to you.”

     “Oh, he did,” the young Trill said with a chuckle.  “Believe me, I had two cups of raktajino in the time it took him to tell the entire story.  It’s just… seeing you… I mean, I don’t know what to say.”

     “Don’t worry, I didn’t know what to say at first, either,” Kira laughed.  “It’s incredible.  Dax, I’ve got a baby growing inside of me!  You can’t imagine –“

     “Oh, I know what it’s like.”

     “Of course you do.  It’s just, I never expected it.  I feel selfish saying this, but in a way, I’m glad for the accident.  I wouldn’t turn down this experience for anything in the galaxy.”

     “So,” Dax once again glanced meaningfully at the duffel bag, “are you going someplace?”

     “I’m moving in with the O’Briens,” Kira said, and Dax couldn’t help bursting out laughing.

     “You serious?”

     “Aunt Nerys.”  Kira shrugged.  “Their idea.  They’re such funny people.  Took them the longest time to actually ask me.  I felt obliged to accept.  They really want to have their baby close to them.  I can’t blame them.”

     It wasn’t long before Jadzia was handing the major a large glass of Kava juice as the two of them sat down on the sofa, and it was another hour after that that Kira had exhausted all the topics she had to discuss and finally asked Dax about the reason for her visit.

     “You just drop by to chat, or are you here on business?”

     “Business,” Jadzia replied.  She explained Quark’s situation.  As she spoke, the look on Kira’s face went from amused to smug to incredulous.

     “I still don’t understand you and your affinity for Ferengi culture.  I have no qualms about resigning the little troll to his fate and letting him go.  But then, this isn’t just about him; I know that look in your eyes.  This is also for you.  If Quark left, who would play tongo with you until 0200 hours once a week?”

     “Exactly.  More than that, he’s my friend, and I care about him.  Anything you can give would be wonderful.”

     “Okay, but I want to make it clear that I’m doing this for you, my friend, and not for him.”

     Dax nodded patiently.

     Kira looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned to her with a sly smile.  “I think I’ve got a couple sets of old plates that I was going to get rid of, since I won’t be needing them for the next few months anyway.  Maybe some silverware, too.”

     Another check mark on the PADD. 

     Next stop, Benjamin Sisko.  That was an easy one.  It was he who’d convinced Quark to stay on the station in the first place, and she didn’t think he regretted that decision.  Besides, he still owed her a few favors.

* * *

     “Hello, Old Man,” Sisko said with a wide grin as the door to his quarters swished open.  The look on his face – as well as his apron and bright-red, old-fashioned toque – told Dax he’d been cooking.  “You’re just in time for dinner.”

     She took a few steps into the room.  “Let me guess.  Your famous jambalaya?” 

     “You got it.”

     “Smells wonderful.” 

     “Please,” he said.  “Take a seat.  There’s enough for three of us.”

     Dax was tempted for a moment, but eventually she shook her head.  “Sorry, Benjamin,” she told him, “but I’m here on an errand.  I have a request for you.”

     It took her fifteen minutes to explain the entire situation to him – he wanted all the details, after all – but finally she was able to express her idea to him.

     “I’ve found a bunch of people willing to give up drinks, glasses, plates, utensils, and napkins.  What I don’t have is furniture.  I happen to know we’re not going to be able to requisition new furniture from Starfleet for another five weeks, so I thought we could do some… rearranging.”

     “Rearranging?” the captain repeated.

     Dax nodded.  “Any section that could use some renovation?”

     Sisko thought for a few minutes, pacing the room quietly.  Finally, he turned to her with a sparkle in his eye. 

     “I’ve got it!  Level 2, section J of the Habitat Ring.  Good place to be doing some ‘structural repairs.’  Only a couple families living there, out of the way enough not to obstruct traffic.  You can take the furniture from the lounge and empty quarters in that area.”

     “Perfect.”  Dax almost turned to leave, but Sisko stopped her with a wave of a hand.

     “Calm down and wait a second,” he said.  “I’m going to need to put the plan in writing.  Odo’s not going to like it, but you’ll need him to sign off on it.  Station policy.”

     “Right.”  Dax looked unconvinced, but a few minutes later, she was holding a PADD containing Benjamin’s orders.  She grinned.  Now all she had to do was convince Odo to apply his thumbprint.

* * *

     “I’m not signing it,” Odo said as she held out the PADD to him, his hands clasped firmly behind his back.  He stood straight, facing Dax as she positioned herself across from him before his desk. 

     “Oh, come on, Odo,” Dax implored.  “You know the benefit Quark’s provides to this community.  A place to eat, drink, play games, and relax after a hard day at work.  Do it for the populace of Deep Space Nine.”

     Odo harrumphed.  “As far as I’m concerned, the populace of Deep Space Nine can eat at the Replimat.  Quark’s bar is the most disorderly site on this station, a virtual cesspool of shady deals and criminal activity.  I’ve wanted to see the place closed for years.”

     Dax had expected this.  The constable would make excuses and fight her all the way, but in the end he’d sign the directive.  It was just a matter of breaking down the wall of stubbornness that kept him from admitting he was rather fond of his old adversary.  Besides, he disliked change as much as any Solid did.

     “Well, what about justice then?” Dax pressed.  “What happened to Quark was hardly fair.  There must be some law that says it’s illegal to try to force someone to commit suicide.”

     “It’s not that simple,” the shape-shifter grunted.  “If Quark insists on behaving like a Ferengi, he will be subject to Ferengi customs.  Besides, if I followed Bajoran law, I could have the little toad arrested for hiring an assassin.”

     “But Odo, think about Quark.  He’s lost everything.  He needs your help.”

     “Jadzia, I wouldn’t sign it for the so-called good of the community.  I’m not going to sign it for… personal reasons, either.”  Odo turned to face the back wall of the security office, and she knew he was close to caving.

     “Well, what are you going to do with your time if you don’t have Quark to boss around?”

     “Dax…”  Odo’s voice was hard.

     The young Trill pressed her fists against the tabletop and leaned across the desk so that her nose was inches from Odo’s shoulders.  “And who will you confide in when it comes to your… feelings… for Major Kira?” 

     It was a cruel card to pull, and Dax knew it.  But it was the last one she had.  She saw his body stiffen.  “How do you know about that?”

     “Oh, I have my sources,” she replied cheerfully.  “So what do you say?  Will you do it?”

     When he turned to her, his face was carefully blank.  “Will it get you out of my office?”

     “Yes.”

     “Alright.  I’ll do it.”  He eyed her, and though his face was set in a grumpy look, his eyes held a small smile.  He abruptly took the PADD from her hand, pressed his thumb against the screen, and gave it back.

     “Thanks Odo.  I knew I could count on you.”  She gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze and turned on her heal.  He watched her as she practically skipped out the door and across the Promenade. 

* * *

     Bashir met her at the door to Quark’s.

     “You look exhausted,” he observed.

     She gave him her most vibrant smile and shrugged.  “I’ve probably walked at least ten kilometers today.  Visited just about everyone I know on the station, and then some.”

     “Still can’t believe you did it for Quark, of all people.”

     Someone out of the corner of her eye caught Jadzia’s attention, and she glanced across the Promenade to see Morn approaching, carrying a shiny barstool. 

     “There’s someone I didn’t talk to,” she commented.  “But word got around, apparently.”

     “How’d he even get that?” Julian asked, gesturing towards the stool.

     Dax shrugged again.  “You ready?”

     Julian nodded and promptly stepped through the door.  She could hear his deep voice reverberating in the empty bar and Quark’s quieter replies.  She entered behind him.

     “Quark.  My sister sent me these,” she said.  “I thought you might want them, but they’re really ugly.”

     She watched carefully as the two brothers examined the gaudy glassware, and exchanged a smug look with Rom as he said, “They’re not as ugly as the old ones, but they’re pretty bad.”

     Within seconds, Sisko and Odo had come in with the furniture and the bar was once again bustling with people. Julian shot her an amused smirk and the two of them took their contributions behind the bar.  She listened with amusement to Quark’s feeble protests and laughed as Morn plopped himself down on his stool in front of the counter, as if he was just going to wait there until someone served him, however long that wait would be.

     There was a sudden shout from the doorway, and both Dax and Bashir whirled around to see Chief O’Brien running in, carrying the dartboard. 

     “Julian!” he exclaimed.  “Keiko just kicked me out.  Said I was hovering and driving her crazy.  You want to play a game of darts tonight?”

     “You bet!” the doctor replied, beaming.  “Just as soon as I finish here.” 

     Dax stole a glance over at Quark, who was staring intently at her.  The look of wonder in his wide gray eyes made the entire effort worthwhile.

* * *

     “Jadzia, why don’t you let me help you with that?”  Quark stepped up next to Dax as she stood behind the bar, pulling four bottles of Aldebaran whiskey out of a case, her long-fingered hands stretching in order to grasp two in each. 

     “Quark!”  She looked down at him with her usual brilliant smile.  “How’s the revamp going?”

     It was rather late and the bar was relatively quiet.  Dax had stayed at the counter all night, accepting drink contributions, and she was ready to go to bed.  She could tell that Quark, too, was tired, and while he had been quite chipper earlier in the evening, the initial delight had worn off and the feeling of impending doom remained.

    “As well as can be expected, I suppose.  But those chairs Sisko brought in?  I tested them.  I’m not going to get any business if I have to keep those here.  They’re terribly uncomfortable.  Damn Cardassian interior designers.”  He sighed and grabbed another couple bottles, carefully placing them on the still-sparse shelf.

     “Come on, no complaining.  Must I remind you that without those chairs, you wouldn’t have had any seating at all?  Be grateful for what you can get.”

     “But that’s just it,” Quark replied, lowering his voice.  “Jadzia, I shouldn’t have broken the contract.  It would have been better to die like a Ferengi than to live as an outcast like this.  I’ve lost my standing with my peers, and I’m not allowed to do business with other Ferengi.  I can’t live on your charity.”  He sighed again and repeated, “I shouldn’t have broken the contract.”

     He didn’t notice until he looked up at her that she had stopped organizing his drinks supply and was leaning with one elbow on the bar, facing him, her ice-blue eyes boring into him. 

     “So you wish you’d just given up,” she finally said, her voice blunt.

     “That’s not what I –“

     “Yes it is.”  Her expression was indignant.  “You think it would have been easier to give up, let Brunt swindle you out of your most important possession – your own life – than to try to deal with these new restrictions.  That doesn’t sound like the Quark I know.”  He knew she was thinking of his persistence in pursuing her, from generating holosuite recreations of her favorite childhood places to giving her a free drink when she came in alone. 

     “But I –“ 

     “You’ve got a good brain.  Use it.  You’ll find a way.  You’re a Ferengi, after all.”

     “But that’s the entire problem!” Quark exclaimed.  “By law, I am no longer a Ferengi!  I can’t do business with my own people!  I have nowhere I can turn, no place to go home to!”

     Dax’s smile was slightly mocking.  “I thought you hated going home.”

     “That’s beside the point,” he said crossly, turning away in frustration. 

     She finally took pity on him.

     “Quark, listen to me.”  Her tone was quiet, serious.  “You can’t make a deal if you’re dead.”

     “Rule of Acquisition Number 125,” he added automatically.

     “Don’t give up on the negotiations.  At some point, you’ll be able to make a deal.”  She gently traced two fingers affectionately along the top of his lobe, then turned back to the drinks shelf.

     “Jadzia?”

     “Yes, Quark?”

     “Are we still on for tongo tomorrow tonight?”

     “Are you _sure_ you want to go farther into debt right now?” 

     “The question is, are you?  You still owe me from our last game.”

     “Okay.  I’ll be there.”

* * *

      _Beep-bop_. 

     Quark sighed in exasperation.  It had been a long, stressful day in more ways than one and all he wanted to do was crawl into bed and go to sleep.  But no.  Someone else wanted to see him.

     _Beep-bop._

     How was it that the doorbell actually sounded impatient?

     _Beep-bop._

     “All right, I’m coming!”  He hurried to the door and unlocked it, letting it slide all the way open.

     “Good evening, Mr. Quark.” 

     It was Garak.  Quark’s eyes widened in fright and he took a few quick steps backward.  “I broke the contract,” he said, a little breathlessly.  “Y-you don’t have to kill me anymore.”

     The dim hallway lights flashed off the Cardassian’s toothy grin, making him seem even more menacing than usual.  He followed the little barkeeper into the room.  “Why, Quark, I thought we had made a deal.”

     “A contract is a contract is a contract, but only between Ferengi!” he recited under his breath, looking down at his slippered feet as if trying to steady himself.  

     Garak completely ignored him.  “And a deal is a deal.  Which is why I came to perform my end of our little agreement.” 

     Quark was shaking now, his eyes squeezed shut and his whole body quivering as he waited for a knife in the stomach or hands around his neck.  He should have known a Cardassian would act like this.  He’d done business with them long enough to recognize that they were as brutal as Klingons and as devious as Romulans.  Or Ferengi, for that matter. 

     But the violence and resulting agony never came.  After a few moments, he cautiously opened his eyes to see Garak still standing in front of him, staring at him curiously.  The scaly ridges inched their way up the gray forehead for a second before the Cardassian suddenly handed him a wrapped package he’d had tucked under his arm. 

     Quark immediately shoved it back.  “It’s a bomb.  Or toxic gas.  Or – or something.  You can’t trick me, Garak.  I know how you operate.” 

     The tailor smirked.  “I assure you, it’s perfectly safe.”

     “Well, you open it then.”

     “You don’t trust me.”

     “You’re trying to kill me!” 

     Garak finally allowed himself to laugh as the Ferengi looked up at him helplessly.  “That’s what I like about you, Quark.  You don’t trust people the way the Humans do.  You live by common sense, not some ridiculous moral code based on mercy and charity.  Don’t worry.  I’ll open it for you.” 

     Garak carefully tore the edge of the brown paper and untied the string holding the package together.  In a few moments, he’d laid the contents on the table.  It was a brand-new three-piece suit, with a red and gold pinstriped jacket and a gold brocade shirt. 

     “For you,” Garak said simply.

     Quark still looked unconvinced.  “You mean, you’re just giving it to me?”

     “Oh, not at all,” Garak replied.  “You paid me for a service I never provided.  It’s the least I can do.  After all, unlike Ferengi, Cardassians do try to keep their contracts, even when they are made with individuals of other species.”

     Quark gave a small sigh of relief and gently picked up the suit, examining it carefully and finding it to be a rather expensive one. 

     “Would you really have killed me?” he finally asked, seriously.

     “Oh, I was quite certain you’d change your mind,” Garak responded.

     “And if I hadn’t?”

     “As I said before, a deal is a deal.”  The tailor grinned in what he knew was a disconcerting manner.

     Quark was silent for a beat, then asked, “How did you know I’d break the contract?”

     “Like I said, Quark, you live by common sense.  Common sense dictates that it’s better to stay alive than to die, no matter what other conditions go along with living.”

     Quark studied him for a long moment before saying, “Well, in that case, Garak, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you.”

     “And with you, Mr. Quark.”  The tailor gave his closest approximation of a genuine smile.

     “Oh, and Garak,” the Ferengi called after him as he turned to leave.  Quark seemed to struggle with something for a few seconds.  Finally, he glanced up.  “Thank you.”

     “You’re quite welcome.”


	3. Rule #34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After “The Siege of AR-588,” Ezri and Quark play a therapeutic game of tongo and discuss Life, the Universe, and Everything

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Rule of Acquisition #34 – War is Good for Business   
> Series: Rules of Acquisition  
> Characters: Quark, Ezri  
> Word Count: 3,127  
> Rating: T  
> Warnings: Dark (no kidding)!
> 
> A/N: I was going to post a more upbeat story for my next rule, but I didn’t like what I wrote and scrapped it. I had this partially finished and decided to go ahead with it. Hopefully, it comes across as meaningful and not just an angst-fest… it turned out a little darker than I thought it would. Of course, it’s a tag to one of the darkest episodes ever. You’ve been warned!
> 
> I do not own Star Trek or its characters; I just play in their universe.

 

     Quark screamed and screamed until he finally woke up, bolting upright and knocking his head sharply on the bottom of the upper bunk.  He found that he was gasping and shaking uncontrollably, his heart beating so fast and hard that his whole chest ached. 

     Groggy and slightly dazed, he fought to remember where he was.  The mattress was hard, the sheets thin and scratchy – but that could mean he was practically anywhere; Cardassians, Starfleet, Klingons, and all those other military types had no sense when it came to making a place comfortable.  These bunk beds, though, they could only exist in one place.  He was on the _Defiant_.  Listening carefully for a few moments, he could hear the soft, deep hum of the warp core three decks below.  Slowly, painfully, he allowed himself to relax.  He was safe.  They were on their way home, to Deep Space Nine; all except Nog, of course.  Quark shuddered as images from the nightmare resurfaced at the thought of his poor, injured nephew. 

     _But at least the boy is safe, now,_ he told himself. _On his way to a medical facility.  Surely, Starfleet doctors will be able to fix him.  He’ll be walking again in no time._

     He knew he should have faith in the protection of the Blessed Exchequer and tried hard to believe that everything would turn out alright, but he couldn’t quite make himself do it.  He knew the odds of a full recovery were slim, and he had always considered himself a realist rather than an optimist.

     He felt a twist in his stomach as he wondered, not for the first time, how he was going to break the news to Rom.

     “Lights,” he called out softly, and the yellow glow of the wall panels lessened the claustrophobic atmosphere of the room somewhat.  He stood up, rubbing his forehead, and wondered what he should do next.  Going back to sleep was out of the question. 

     The door chimed. 

     _Damn it.  Someone heard the blasted sleep-screaming._

     “Come in,” he called, moving to face the door.

     It was Ezri Dax.  Her face clearly conveyed the question mark in her mind.

     “Quark, I – “

     “Don’t!” He held up his hands.  “Please, if you’re here to make a house call, you can leave right now.  The last thing I need is a counselor.”  He knew that it had come out far harsher than he had intended, but in that moment, he couldn’t think of any amendment that would soften it. 

     Her small quirk of a smile was gentle, even sad, but not pitying.  It reminded him, frighteningly, of Jadzia.  “I’m not here as a counselor,” she said.  “I’m here as Dax.  I was wondering if you’d like to play a game of tongo.”

     “Oh.”  Quark paused wearily, massaging his still-aching forehead.  “In that case, I accept.”

     Ezri, holding her hands behind her back, turned and led the way back to her quarters a few doors down.  They were small and cramped like all the rest, but there was a fastidious neatness about them that reminded Quark of Odo.  Jadzia had not been neat.  Not overwhelmingly messy, either, but definitely not neat.  It was another difference between the two hosts that Quark still found odd and disconcerting.  It was disturbing enough for a person to switch bodies; it was even more so when the person’s personality changed, too. 

     Quark had no idea how or why Dax had a tongo wheel in her quarters.  He soon realized that it was _the_ tongo wheel – the one he had given Jadzia when he’d busted his partnership with Gaila and Hagath. 

     She must have seen the question in his eyes, because she explained, “I brought it along because I knew you were not happy about coming.  I thought you and I might like to play on the way to the planet.  But I kinda…forgot.  I don’t think I was in the mood for tongo on the way here.  I was too distracted.”

     “Me, too.” Quark nodded. 

     There was a quiet pause as Ezri began to set up the pieces. 

     “Did I…did I wake you?” Quark finally asked hesitantly, sitting down beside her.

     “I think you woke the entire crew,” she replied, her tone apologetic.  He winced visibly and she added, “Not that anyone is sleeping much anyway.” 

     “I can relate to that,” Quark grumbled.  “I’ve lost more sleep over this war than I ever did over my business.  Did you ever know what it was like for us during the Dominion Occupation?  Knowing that you and Nog and all those others were out there fighting, and not being able to do anything about it; always afraid that Rom and I would get a note one day saying how bravely my nephew died.  Then, I didn’t have time to worry about you lot – once Kira’s band of terrorists started the sabotaging, it all went downhill.  I still can’t believe the things I did.  I think I was so terrified over what was going to happen to Rom that I didn’t even think.”

     “I know,” Ezri said.  “You did what you had to do.  You did the right thing.”

     “Sure, I did.  That’s not the point.”  Quark took the cards Dax had dealt.  “The point is, why does it have to be like this?  Honestly, why can’t we just make peace and cut our losses?  Negotiate with the Dominion.  Make a deal we can both live with. 

     “Starfleet could learn something from the Ferengi, you know.  Throughout our history, we’ve had very few wars, and even those didn’t last long.  We realize the cost of war.  The cost in lives is too high – business and even politics always brings more profit than war.”

     “I’d be tempted to agree with you, Quark, but this war is different.”

     “Of course you Federation people would say that,” he snorted.

     “No, now hear me out,” Ezri said.  “Sometimes, in history, there are wars that in the end are rather trivial.  It’s all about territory or some petty wrong that one party felt another had committed.  Sometimes it starts with a hateful murder committed by one lunatic and ends on an enormous scale where neither party remembers why they’re even fighting.” 

     Quark leaned back on his elbows and listened patiently as she organized her cards.  “Retreat,” she finally said, and Quark smiled. 

     “I always thought the wars with the Klingons and the Romulans were like that,” she continued.  “Yes, our culture was different from both of theirs; we valued different things.  Klingons valued, and likely always will value, strength and violence.  Their honor comes from physical and political power.  But their people aren’t oppressed.  They have their own freedoms and ways of life.  The wars we fought were territorial disputes, fueled by petty hatred and misunderstanding.”

     “And the Romulans?” Quark prompted.

     “Similar situation.  From what I’ve seen of their culture, it is oppressive.  Their people aren’t free to live the way you and I are.  But their quarrels with us have usually been over spying and territory, not any campaign hell-bent on destruction and galactic domination.  It’s always been about the Neutral Zone with them, for as long as I can remember.”

     The young woman got a funny look on her face then, and Quark knew that Ezri was once again realizing what her statement meant – Dax had memories going back centuries, to an era before Ezri’s grandparents had been born.

     He took the time to decide on his next move.  “Evade.”

     Dax glanced quickly at her cards and yawned.  “But the Dominion are different.  They’re like the Borg, in a way – dead set on one goal, and that goal is complete control of the entire galaxy.  Either one of them is enough to convince anyone of the existence of true evil in the universe.  One keeps its people under unimaginable oppression for the sake of a small group of supposedly superior beings who genetically engineer other races to think of them as gods.  The other eradicates the individuality of billions of people from the thousands of races it conquers, a process that is extremely painful and leaves its victims as nothing but fighting machines, unable to think or act for themselves.”

     Quark shuddered.  He hadn’t ever encountered the Borg, but the stories he’d heard still gave him nightmares. 

     “The point is, there are wars you wage because someone is picking a fight with you.  And then there are wars that determine the fate of every single person in the galaxy.  Those wars are about morality and the rights of all sentient beings.  They draw the lines between good and evil, right and wrong, for generations to come.  In this case, a Federation win would mean retaining the liberties that we enjoy for the Alpha Quadrant and maybe even the Gamma Quadrant.  If the Dominion comes out on top, millions will die, cultures will be erased, and the common freedoms of speech, religion, property… all of that will be gone.  Our children’s lives will be death and oppression.” 

     Quark had the impression that this was a different host speaking, a wiser and more world-weary one; the feeling was confirmed when Ezri eventually said, “Curzon sometimes said, ‘Someone who wants to kill you will never stop wanting to kill you.’  It was good advice when dealing with Klingons, but he applied it to wars, too.  The Dominion won’t stop until they’ve taken over the entire quadrant and beaten every species into submission.  And it won’t end there.  After the Alpha Quadrant falls, they’ll move on to the Beta and Delta Quadrants.  Who knows?  Maybe they even plan to make it an intergalactic operation.” 

     Quark wanted to argue, but couldn’t think of anything to say that would make sense.  She had a good point.  He waited for her to make a move. 

     “Confront,” she finally said.

     “Acquire.”  He grinned at her.

     “Wait, what?  How did you even do that?” 

     He showed her his cards.  “While you were talking, I was thinking.  I’m good at multitasking.  It’s why I’m such a good businessman.”

     She rolled her eyes and started to reset the wheel.

     “What I don’t understand, Dax, is why the Dominion was willing to do business with the Ferengi but ended up fighting the Federation at the first opportunity.”  He added, “The risk is five slips, by the way.”

     “Okay.  I don’t know, Quark.”  She spun the wheel and bit her lip in thought.  “Maybe it’s because Ferenginar is small and they didn’t see it as a threat.  Or maybe they were only using you to get a foothold in the Alpha Quadrant.” 

     “Maybe you’re right,” he said, trying to shake the terrible feeling that he’d been cheated and he should have realized it.  All that tulaberry wine… he’d assumed they’d just wanted to expand their market.  Had it all been a ruse to start their invasion of the Alpha Quadrant?  It wasn’t the first time he’d thought of the possibility, and it made him feel vaguely ill.

     Ezri yawned again and rubbed her forehead.  She crawled onto the lower bunk and hung over the edge, examining her cards carefully.  “Ugh, retreat.”

     He squinted at her, trying to determine if she was bluffing. 

     “Let’s talk about something else,” she said, sounding like a young girl again.  “Like, what are we going to do after this stupid war is over?”

     “Okay,” Quark said slowly.  “Confront.”

     “Evade.”

     “What are _you_ going to do when this stupid war is over?”

     “I honestly have no idea.”  She glanced through her cards and rolled onto her back on the bunk.  “I’ve thought about it way too much; I’ve even talked to Benjamin about it.  I’m no closer to sorting myself out then I was when I was first joined.”

     It didn’t take long before she was talking about her family and the promising career she had in Starfleet before she’d suddenly wound up with the Dax symbiont.  She talked about being a counselor and what it meant to her that she was a head-case now herself, and how weird it was to have echoes of past aspirations and dreams warring with her own inside her head.  Quark listened patiently, occasionally chiming in with helpful (or not-so-helpful) advice. 

     “What about you?”  She eventually asked.

     “You already know my plans.”  He gave a cursory look at his cards, but it had been a while since either of them had made a move.  His mind was starting to get fuzzy, and he was trying to remember whose turn it was.

     “Really?” She looked at him quizzically.

     “Buying my own moon, all that?” he reminded her, and she laughed. 

     “Tell me about it.”

     “I already told you about it!”

     “That was when I was Jadzia.  I want to hear it with these ears.”

     Quark rolled his eyes, but launched into a vivid description of what he hoped was his future (if he managed to survive this war).  He’d sell the bar to Rom and make him hire someone to run it for him while he was off engineering or going to Bajor with his wife, or whatever else his idiot brother planned to do.  After serving as his messenger during the war, the Nagus would surely grant Quark a higher position on Ferenginar.  He’d be as rich as Gaila had been, without the horrific weapons business.

     It was a while before Quark realized that Ezri had not said a word in several minutes. 

     “Dax?”  He glanced over at her and the sound of even breathing confirmed his suspicions – she had fallen asleep.  She lay on her bunk, stretched out on her side.  One arm was folded so that her hand rested on her opposite shoulder.  The other arm hung straight and limp off the side of the bed; the tongo cards that it had once held were on the floor, face-down. 

     Quark wasn’t quite sure what to do.  He thought that the right thing would be to quietly turn off the lights and leave – let her sleep in privacy.  But when he stood up to go, the thought of returning to his own dark, lonely quarters filled him with dread.  He hesitated for a few minutes.

     _What the hell,_ he finally thought.  _I want to sleep.  I’ll do it here._   He sat down again on the floor with his back to the wide bedpost. 

     “Lights, fifteen percent,” he called out softly to the computer.  The lights dimmed gradually and Quark allowed himself to close his eyes.

* * *

     In the morning, Dax was gone.  Quark woke up with a crick in his neck to find that her Starfleet-issue duffle bag and her tongo wheel were sitting neatly by the door, her closet was empty, and her bed was made.  It was clear she had somehow gotten up, showered, packed, and left for the bridge without waking him. 

     He was on his way out when he noticed the transparent pouch of gold-plated latinum sitting by the tongo wheel.  A quick note was scrawled on the outside in Ezri’s girlish handwriting:

_Quark, here are your winnings – 20 slips.  Thanks for being a good sport._

     Quark smiled to himself, feeling a little bit lighter despite the extra weight of earnings, and went back to his cabin to prepare for their return to DS9. 

* * *

 

     To Quark’s surprise, Rom’s reaction to his son’s injury was nowhere near as bad as he had expected.  He was calm and collected and shockingly accepting.

     “It’s alright, Brother,” Rom said. “Nog knew what could happen.  He understood the dangers.”

     “I knew something like this would happen if he joined Starfleet.”

     “It was what he wanted to do, Brother.”

     “It’s just, I tried so hard to stop him, Rom,” Quark said, putting his elbows on the bar and resting his face in his hands.  It was late at night, and Rom, who had been running the bar during Quark’s absence, had just been closing up.  “I did everything I could do to convince him it was a bad idea; I even jeopardized my relationship with Sisko to rig the holosuite in order to make him fail that test.  This could have been prevented if only he had listened to me.  Or if you had listened to me.  Or if Sisko had listened to me.” 

     “Nog is a grown boy,” Rom told him emphatically.  “He doesn’t need your protection.”  A moment later, his voice softened.  “Although, I am very grateful you were there with him, Brother.  And I’m sure he was, too.”

     This statement did not surprise Quark – it was so like Rom to try to make him feel better – even when he had not told his brother about how he killed the Jem’Hadar that came into the make-shift infirmary.  He hadn’t told anyone, and he didn’t think he ever would.  It was not something he thought he could bring himself to talk about.  Bashir knew, though, and Sisko knew.  They had seen the body lying in the doorway when they had come to check on him and Nog after the battle.  Quark shivered, feeling an irrational sense of guilt as he remembered how much he had wanted to stay home.  If he hadn’t been there… he looked up as Rom continued.

     “Nog’s not dead, Brother.”  Rom pressed a hand to Quark’s shoulder.  “Don’t worry.  Dr. Bashir and the other Federation doctors will be able to replace his leg.  He’ll be home before you know it.”

     They stood in silence for a few moments until the door swished open.  Quark jumped at the sound; Rom noticed this and looked concerned.

     It was Captain Sisko. 

     The captain stood in the entryway, hesitating.  “Am I interrupting anything?”

     “Not at all,” Rom said quietly.  “Any news?”

     “Just that your son is stable and is in very safe, seasoned, and capable hands,” the captain replied, and Quark saw Rom relax almost imperceptibly.  “He was very brave, Rom.  He saved a lot of lives.  I just wanted you to know.”

     “Could you tell me what happened?” Rom asked earnestly.  “Quark told me what he knew, but…I’d like to hear the details.”

     “You’ll get the full report from Starfleet by tomorrow morning…” Sisko said gently.

     “I’d rather hear it first-hand from you.  That is, if you don’t mind,” the engineer told him.

     “Of course.” Sisko nodded.

     “I’m going to leave you to it, then,” Quark waved his hand at them vaguely, trying to adopt an air of nonchalance.  What he really didn’t need right now was a retelling of what he’d witnessed, including the captain’s graphic details.  “Goodnight, Brother.  You can finish locking up.”

     “Goodnight, Quark.”  He looked up to see Sisko sticking out his hand to shake.  Quark took it, firmly, and met the captain’s eyes.   He was proud that he was able to keep the bitterness and accusation from his gaze.

 

       


	4. Rule #284

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quark is home for a few days to take care of some business affairs, and he catches his mother reading a very surprising book.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title: Rule of Acquisition #284: Deep down, everyone's a Ferengi.   
> Series: Rules of Acquisition  
> Characters: Quark, Ishka  
> Word Count: 823  
> Rating: K  
> Warnings: mixing of silliness and seriousness, capitalism, may require some familiarity with Ayn Rand’s work
> 
> A/N: I seriously have so many of these that are half-finished but I’ve had very little time to work on them so this will probably be the last one I'll post for a while. Anyway, it's probably obvious, but I’m a fan of Ayn Rand. This piece is not meant as a political statement, but as both a fond homage to and a way of poking fun at Atlas Shrugged, as well as a look into Ishka’s search for truth. Hope you enjoy.
> 
> This occurs sometime after Ferengi Love Songs and before The Magnificent Ferengi.
> 
> As always, I do not own Star Trek or its characters; I just play in their universe.

     Quark stumbled through the front door of his mother’s house, soaking wet and grumpily trying to dry his lobes.  He wasn’t going to be on Ferenginar for more than a week, yet he was already wishing he could get back to his comparatively stress-free routine on DS9.  Dealing with the FCA, even sans Brunt, was headache-inducing.

     “You won’t believe this, Quark!”  Ishka said from across the room.  She sat with her legs up on the sofa, a huge old paper-back novel resting on her knees.

     “What?” he asked irritably.

     “This book!  It’s exquisite!”

     “You read books?”  Quark asked, aghast and scandalized.  He knew that he ought to be used to this sort of thing when it came to his mother, but he couldn’t help his shock. 

     “Zekkie bought it for me at an auction.  It’s a rare copy – over three hundred years old!  And get this, Quark – it was written by a _hew-mon_ _female_!” 

     “You read _hew-mon_ books?”  Now Quark sounded downright disgusted.

     “It’s not what you would expect!  This female, she’s the executive of a railroad, and she’s just opening a new line.  All these journalists are pestering her about her motives, and she’s like, ‘I’m doing it to make money.’  Listen to this!”  Here, Ishka began to quote:

_“Do you realize you’re talking for publication?” asked the man with a sneer._

_“But, Mr. Hopkins,” said Dagny, in polite astonishment, “is there any reason why we would talk to you, if it weren’t for publication?”_

_“Do you want us to quote all the things you said?”_

_“I hope I may trust you to be sure and quote them.  Would you oblige me by taking this down verbatim?” She paused to see their pencils ready, then dictated: “Miss Taggart says – quote – I expect to make a pile of money on the John Galt Line.  I will have earned it.  Close quote.  Thank you so much.”_

     Ishka put the book down, grinning triumphantly. 

     Quark stared.  “You’re kidding.  No _hew-mon_ could have written that!”

     “Apparently, your _hew-mons_ have a more colorful past than their current culture would indicate.  Brilliant, isn’t it?”  His mother snapped the book shut and stood up.  “Well, I’m off to prepare dinner.”       

     When she had left, curiosity got the better of him and he flipped to where his mother had left her bookmark. 

_“…what protection do we have against your Line being no good?”_

_“Don’t ride on it.”_

_Another asked, “Aren’t you going to tell us your motive for building the Line?”_

_“I have told you: the profit which I expect to make.”_

     “I think I’m in love.” Quark grinned to himself.    

* * *

 

     “Be careful with that,” his mother said.  “The pages are fragile.”

     Quark, having been engrossed in the book, startled. 

     “Dinner’s ready.  I’ve been calling you.”

     “ _Hew-mons_ used to be way more interesting,” Quark commented, following her.  At least he’d gained some ammunition against Sisko if the subject of the barkeep’s “self-interest” was ever brought up in one of captain’s sanctimonious lectures. 

     “More interesting, and perhaps even wiser than Ferengi,” Ishka said. 

     “What’s that supposed to mean?”

     Ishka chuckled.  “You didn’t read enough to catch on, did you?  The book isn’t simply about making profit.  The book is about living in a way such that you _earn_ your profit.  It’s about making _honest_ profit – about receiving money _in return for making a difference in the universe_.”

     “Oh.”  Quark was disappointed.  That sounded more like the humans he knew.  “I suppose I should have known, seeing as the protagonist is a _female_.”

     Ishka ground her teeth.  “The point, my son, is that it doesn’t matter that she’s a female.  In that ancient _hew-mon_ society, what mattered was that she was good at her job.  She created things of value.”

     Quark opened his mouth to protest, but Ishka continued.

     “Quark, when you look out at the capital city, at the Tower of Commerce and all the other buildings – at night, when they’re glowing with light – and you see their reflection in the puddles as the taxi pods zoom through steaming streets – what do you think of?”

    Quark wondered what new riddle his mother had come up with.  “Um… home?”

    The look she shot him was filled with both exasperation and fondness.  “I think of the people who built it – the risks they took, the time they spent… The city is a monument to them, as much as it is an opportunity for us.  According to Dagny, the sight of achievement is the greatest gift a person can offer to others.

     “I’ve realized something important, Quark.  Latinum isn’t everything.  _Achievement_ is everything.  Latinum is only a way to measure it.  If we got rid of all the pettiness and corruption, the bribery, the blind adherence to old rules… we would be able to find the core of our society – merit.  Then, our society would be truly just.  That’s the world I’m trying to build, Quark.”

     Quark didn’t know what to say to that.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: Honestly, I could write a treatise on the problems with Ferengi society and their implementation of capitalism, as well as a long character study on how Quark and Ishka, with their differing viewpoints, fit into that society.  But I don’t think that’s something you guys want to read… ;)


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